Feminism and Orientalism
Deborah Cherry, Beyond the Frame: Feminism and Visual Culture, Britain 1850–1900.
London: Routledge, 2000. 268 pp. (inc. index). ISBN 0–4151–0727–X, £13.99 (pbk)
Julie F. Codell and Dianne Sachko Macleod, eds, Orientalism Transposed: The Impact
of the Colonies on British Culture. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998. 249 pp. (inc. index).
ISBN 1–8592–8454–X, £49.50 (hbk)
Dorrine Kondo, About Face: Performing Race in Fashion and Theater. London and
New York: Routledge, 1997. 277 pp. (inc. index). ISBN 0–4159–1140–0, £50.00 (hbk);
ISBN 0–4159–1141–9, £14.99 (pbk)
Ruth Bernard Yeazell, Harems of the Mind: Passages of Western Art and Literature.
London and New York: Yale University Press, 2000. 328 pp. (inc. index).
ISBN 0–3000–8389–0, $35.00 (hbk)
Meyda Yeg˘ enog˘lu, Colonial Fantasies: Towards a Feminist Reading of Orientalism.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. 182 pp. (inc. index).
ISBN 0–5126–2658–7, £14.95
It seems particularly hard to be writing about women, the veil and imperialism just as the ‘forces of civilization’ are bombing Afghanistan in the name
of democracy and women’s rights. After years of disregard for the impoverishment of the Afghan population and the particular plight of Afghan
women under the Taliban, now, again, the veiled Afghan woman circulates
as a symbol for the wrong sort of Islam in the discourse of the alliance
against terrorism, led by an American president who attacks women’s
rights at home. Yet, it is also what lends an urgency to feminist scholarship
in this area, as we struggle to unpick and oppose the homogenizing
discourse of sentimental nationalism mobilized by the Bush/ Blair duo who
appear to speak ‘our’ language (appropriating feminist discourse alongside
the forms of liberal multiculturalism) as they undertake the unspeakable
and plan new regimes of elders and warlords that will also operate without
apparently any recourse to women’s opinion.
The books covered here take a variety of positions on the question of
colonialism, imperial culture, gender and postcolonial theory. Since the
publication of Said’s Orientalismin 1978, the analysis of imperial and
colonial cultures has been resolutely politicized. Knowledge is rarely now
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Reina LewisUniversity of East London
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seen to be neutral, although many have challenged Said’s tendency to
construct Orientalism as monolithic. The absence in his initial formulation
of attention to gender, either in the representation of women or the contribution of women to cultures of colonialism (acknowledged by Said, 1993),
has been ably corrected by writers such as Lisa Lowe (1991), Sara Mills
(1991), Billie Melman (1992) and Jenny Sharpe (1993). Many of these
writers have been directly or indirectly informed by the work of Gayatri
Spivak (1985, 1998), whose analyses of the historical and economic global
relations structuring discourses of power have reformulated knowledge of
the linked processes of gender, racial and class subject formation.
Demonstrating that western women did contribute to imperial cultures as
writers, artists and commentators and that women of all classes were
engaged in the constitution of colonial relations in the colonies is now no
longer remarkable in the way that it was 15 years ago. However, there is still
a tendency in women’s history to find and celebrate the ‘exceptional’ woman
traveller/philanthropist/explorer that does not seek to understand the ways
in which women, however disadvantaged by western gender regulations,
could still experience the imperial world as a theatre of opportunity. It is
this relationship between the colonies and female subjectification that is so
honourably explored by Deborah Cherry in Beyond the Frame. Her account
of British women’s art in the second half of the 19th century looks precisely
at how imperialism provided a physical space and refreshingly open mental
terrain for the modelling of alternate white femininities. Cherry is well
established as an authority on women artists, and here she examines how
the ‘spatial turn’ taken in recent years by visual studies can usefully help
establish the link between visual representation and political representation. Tracing the placement of alliances and friendships among the
Langham Place set of progressive women in the 1850s and 1860s, Cherry
adopts a Foucauldian ‘tactics of habitat’ to map how the changing West End
of London offered middle- and upper-class women a chance to develop the
professional identities so essential to the possibility of female independence. Expanding as never before, visual culture became ‘an exciting arena
where new definitions of “modern woman” were put into play and
contested’ (Cherry, 2000: 34). With the coterminous creation of the feminist
press, the woman artist emerged as an emblem of female professional aspiration, ‘mobilised in the debates for paid work and vocational training’
(Cherry, 2000: 48) for women.
Cherry offers detailed and nuanced readings of known and unfamiliar
women artists’ narrative paintings and their reception, vividly depicting
the immediacy that these paintings of modern life had for contemporary
activism and popular debate. The materiality of campaigning and artistic
contacts between women is revealed in spatial and economic terms: the
Cavendish Square and then Langham Place offices from which Bessie
Rayner Parkes edited the Waverly Journaland then The English Woman’s
Journalalso housed the Ladies Reading Room and the Society for Promoting the Employment of Women, as well as exhibiting women’s art. This hub
of protofeminist activity placed women artists in the middle of the male art
world.
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But the art world and feminist discourse along with it did not exist in
isolation and Cherry importantly connects the metropolitan London art
scene to the colonial space of Algeria. Using Derrida’s notion of différence
to unpick binary oppositions, she puts Algeria and London in play with
one another, unsettling the frame of isolationist histories and positioning
feminist practice in the context of colonization. Orientalism had become a
popular and lucrative area of representation, and women artists we now
know participated enthusiastically (Lewis, 1996). Like Joyce Zonana
(1993), Cherry shows how feminist Orientalism structured the
conceptualization of a modern individuated self for British feminists (able
to depict their emancipated modernity in contrast to the lumpen
subservience attributed to ‘native’ women). Further, she elaborates how the
colonial experience also provided a mode of exchange (of visits, paintings
and sketches) that furthered feminist political and professional networks.
The Algerian estate of Barbara Leigh Smith (now married to the French
colonialist Eugène Bodichon) provided Orientalist consumer opportunities
for publishing (Parkes) and art sales (Bodichon had three solo shows at
Gambart’s prestigious West End gallery and sold through the Cavendish
Square shop) which made individual reputations andraised revenue for
British feminist activities. Cherry’s excellent analysis of Bodichon’s landscape paintings demonstrates how her ‘pictorializing’ can be read as a
Spivakian ‘worlding’: the violence of representation possible in and necessary to the colonial project that, as Cherry puts it, ‘transforms earth into
world, land into visual culture’ (Cherry, 2000: 77). Cherry uses her material
to demonstrate how the paradigmatic western (and often masculinist)
investment in the unveiling of Muslim women (Chow, 1993; Suleri, 1992)
was also specifically available to progressive western feminist discourse.
Focusing on the racialized and classed nature of British feminist subjectivity, Cherry reveals how the oppositional gender politics of British
feminism are intimately connected to the material conditions of heightened
visuality in British culture and the power relations of European imperialism. Crucially, she demonstrates that this is a struggle registered in visual
terms, as the ‘visual became the domain in which distinction and difference could be visibly registered, minutely discriminated and authoritatively judged’ (Cherry, 2000: 72).
The impact of the colonies on mainland British culture is also addressed
by this lovely collection by Julie F. Codell and Dianne Sachko Macleod,
Orientalism Transposed. The editors argue that colonial discourse must be
seen as ‘historical and dialectic as well as discursive’ (Codell and Macleod,
1998: 1). They rightly maintain that a focus on the dynamism of the dialectic encourages a recognition of the agency of colonized peoples and the
reciprocal effect on British national and individual identities wrought by
the colonial experience. But they are keen to make sure that this does not
reduce Orientalism and colonial discourse to two ‘dichotomously opposed
sides’; rather, they are produced by ‘struggles voiced by multiple participants’ (Codell and Macleod, 1998: 3). This allows for the heterogeneity of
native voices and operates as a corrective to the dangers of homogenizing
native or subaltern subjects by minimizing differences of class, region,
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religion and ethnicity. Of particular note is Julie Codell’s fascinating historiographical analysis of the different representations of himself that
Maharaja Sayaji Rao III caused to be produced for a variety of British and
Indian audiences at the turn of the 19th century. She demonstrates how the
colonial elite/native informant ‘secured and destabilised multiple identifications of English and Indian, mediating the authority of Orientalist
categories according to the representation he sought to project in each
circumstance’ (Codell and Macleod, 1998: 35). Her careful case study
provides a model through which to consider the self-conscious manipulation of Orientalist and other western cultural codes undertaken by the
colonized subject, showing that the contradictions experienced by the
potentially mimetic colonial elite could also create conditions of opportunity for the emergence of a resistant subject and its textual inscription.
From the late 18th century to the 1920s unconventional and progressive
elite English women paraded in the bifurcated dress of Ottoman women.
This, Macleod argues, offered a chance for the self-consciously theatrical
women of the Aesthetic grouping in the last quarter of the 19th century, and
the Bloomsbury modernists in the first quarter of the 20th century, to stage
alternative or expanded gender identities via their association through
dress with the progressive status they attributed to Ottoman women (who
had greater legal rights to property, and so on). Through the presumption
of this ‘appropriately feminised male costume [bifurcated Ottoman female
dress being read as masculine in Britain]’ (Codell and Macleod, 1998: 64),
Macleod argues, ‘British women inverted the western male sexual stereotype of the Turkish harem woman’. I am taken with how Macleod’s
approach suggests another way to conceptualize the pleasures available to
occidental women in their engagement with Ottoman dress, although my
own research suggests that women outside Macleod’s elite were less able
to deflect the sexualized nature of the chain of associations activated by
appearing as an odalisque (Lewis, 1999). The shift from Ottoman textiles
and dress as a ‘locus of transgression among an elite group of cross-cultural
cross-dressers who longed to stretch social boundaries by assimilating
Ottoman values’ (Codell and Macleod, 1998: 77) to its ‘appropriation’ by
consumer culture (via Liberty in London) further elucidates the class basis
of different Orientalisms. Like Cherry, Romita Ray’s analysis of the
‘Memsahib’s Brush’ illustrates how the rendition of India as picturesque
landscape was used post-mutiny to filter out the trauma that the mutiny
posed to the colonizers. Emily M. Weeks offers an interesting reading of Sir
David Wilkie’s portrait of Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Egypt (1841), and places
an admirable emphasis on Ali’s agency in the construction of his image for
English and Egyptian viewers. But, in her urgency to validate the agency
of the Ottoman subject, she offers a cod Saidian reading of the painting that
vilifies the Saidian approach more than I find necessary: it is possible to
draw on Orientalism’s critique of colonial discourse without rendering the
oriental subject as always and unfailingly objectified and passive. Jeff
Rosen provides an interesting rereading of Julia Margaret Cameron’s photographs of Governor Eyre and Thomas Carlisle, insisting on the historicity
of images that tend to be read as simply portraits of ‘heroes’ or as part of
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her allegorical series. He puts Cameron (whose income derived from her
husband’s plantation in Ceylon) into the imperial context, and elaborates
how her manufacture and marketing of such images marked a clearly
focused political intervention at a time of prominent public debate about
British imperialism (Eyre’s recall as governor of Jamaica, the Abyssinian
War). This is a good antidote to characterizations of Cameron’s work as
merely maternal or winsome, but I am not entirely convinced that the
photographs do indeed contain within them an ambivalence that ‘effectively undermine[s] her otherwise unquestioned [colonialist] assumptions’
(Codell and Macleod, 1998: 176). Contradictions within the image are not
always necessarily signs of a Bhabha-esque ambivalence with the attendant
force to unsettle and displace colonial power.
Unlike the authors in Codell and Macleod’s volume, Ruth Bernard
Yeazell is more of an apologist for western artists and writers previously
taken to task for complicity in Orientalist imperialism. Noting, in Harems
of the Mind, the heightened value accorded to women’s accounts and
discussing fruitfully the citational status accorded to Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu’s letters from Turkey, Yeazell describes a cycle of ‘disenchantment
and reenchantment’ (Yeazell, 2000: 7) in which, despite evidence to the
contrary, Orientalism continued to peddle the desired fantasy of luxury and
excess that so delighted western audiences. Notably she argues that,
despite the tendency to formal realism, a reality effect is not the dominant
drive of harem representations and that, for many western Orientalists, the
fantasies of Orientalism were just that – ‘harems of the mind’, clearly
understood to be fantasy and enjoyed as such. Yeazell’s primary research
is beyond compare and will delight researchers in the field. I particularly
enjoyed her section on how Pierre Loti was fed Lotiesque descriptions of
harem life by the Ottoman sisters Melek and Zeyneb Hanum, which, as in
articles in Codell and Macleod, evidences the Orientalized subject’s ability
to intervene in Orientalist cultural codes.
Yeazell is quite right to want to find a way to explain the longevity of
western stereotype without simply painting westerners as ‘bad’ imperialists, but I feel that the basis on which she argues her case is not always
sufficiently well established. This is a thorny issue to which there has been
a number of responses. Whereas my work (Lewis, 1996) argues that Orientalism need not be seen as intentionalist and monolithic (illustrating how
women’s Orientalist painting constituted an alternative strand within
Orientalism) and Yeg˘enog ˘lu (see below) counters that the citational nature
of such alternative Orientalisms serves to maintain the efficacy of dominant
Orientalist power/knowledges, Yeazell argues that the self-acknowledged
fantasy status of dominant Orientalist representations reveals that Orientalism was never entirely bound up with a ‘will to dominate the Orient
imperially’ (Yeazell, 2000: 8). Recognizing that Orientalist representations
were often self-consciously fantastic does not in itself move them to a
position outside of ideology; surely the nature of fantasy is always socially
and historically located and hence part of power/knowledge relations.
One of the peculiarities of Yeazell’s account is that she does not take a
psychoanalytic view of fantasy even though the hold exerted by the fantasy
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harem, despite its constant disavowal by alternative information, is her
central tenet. This is contrasted by Meyda Yeg˘enog ˘ lu in Colonial Fantasies,
whose adept deployment of psychoanalysis reminds us powerfully that we
must attend to the unconscious as well as conscious structures of colonialism. Crucially, she insists that ‘we need to examine closely how the discursive constitution of Otherness is achieved simultaneously through sexual
as well as cultural modes of differentiation’ (Yeg˘enog ˘lu, 1998: 2). I particularly value her emphasis on how the historically contingent ‘process of
becoming-a-Western-subjectis not a process that simply homogenises and
makes uniform but that also differentiates’(Yeg˘enog˘lu, 1998: 2) between
western subjects as well as between East and West (emphasis in original).
Following Foucault, Bhabha and Butler, Yeg˘enog ˘lu describes such subjectification as paradoxical, producing unfixed, unstable subjects. So, rather
than simply being a monolithic process of distortion, Orientalist discourse
also becomes the terrain from which can emerge the resisting colonized
subject.
Yeg˘enog ˘lu takes the figure of the veiled woman as a case study for the
historical and psychic dimensions of both colonial and colonized subjectivities. For a citational discourse such as Orientalism, which relies for its
authority on the repetition of recognizable elements, the veiled oriental
woman is the iterative element par excellence. The veil stands as a barrier
not just to knowledge of and (sexual) access to the individual woman, but
to the imagined truth of the entire Orient, an absence that threatens western
power. The figure of the woman who cannot be seen yet who troublingly
can hold the westerner in her own unseen gaze operates as the ultimate
trope of the Orient which the West desires to penetrate – be it physically
(the sexual fantasies of Orientalism), geographically (the incursions of
colonial rule) or philanthropically (from missionaries to feminists). As
Yeg˘enog ˘lu argues, the desire to unveil her, coded variously as an act of
aggression or liberation, reveals ‘the unique articulation of the sexual
within cultural difference in Orientalist discourse’ (Yeg˘enog ˘lu, 1998: 47).
In the context of a racializing fantasy formation in which ‘for the
European subject, there is always more to the veil than the veil’ (Yeg˘enog ˘ lu,
1998: 42), Yeg˘enog ˘lu analyses the use of the veil as a sign of female agency.
So, for example, the strategic adoption of ‘traditional’ clothing by Algerian
women in the struggle for national independence reveals how the iterative
element of the veil can be used to destabilize Orientalist discourse when
performed by colonized subjects who have an oppositional relationship to
the colonial discourse in which the veil features. Yeg ˘enog ˘lu suggests that
this example of reveiling is not just a return to tradition; instead it reconstitutes the veil as ‘the embodiment of [the women’s] will to act, their
agency’, a parodic repetition which, momentarily, displaces rather than
reverses the binary logic of Orientalism. (As Yeg ˘enog ˘ lu notes, this agency
was shortlived and unsupported by the newly independent Algerian state
which, as Winifred Woodhull [1991] also argues, depended instead on the
very restriction of women’s agency and political presence.)
But no such insurrectionary performativity is allowed for western
women, and this troubles me. Whereas authors such as Lowe, Mills and
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myself have argued in various ways that the gender subordinated position
of western women often produces a different take on Orientalism,
Yeg˘enog ˘ lu insists that this belief in the significance of such alternative
Orientalisms is misplaced. Instead, she argues that women’s Orientalism
endlessly invokes the centrality of the masculinist model even as it may
try to place itself in contradistinction to it. She suggests that western
women who write, for example, about the forbidden harem operate as a
supplement to male Orientalism, their additional information filling a gap
in male sources, which maintains rather than dislodges their authoritative
position and keeps women’s texts as peripheral. Women’s challenges to
male versions of oriental female life end up merely repeating – albeit in
reverse – the binarisms of Orientalism, a difference within Orientalism at
a manifest level that shores up rather than challenges the logic of a latent
Orientalist discourse. If Orientalism draws strength from the rehearsal of
its apparent contradictions, western women emerge as always and
unavoidably the stooges of Orientalism and imperialism. Yeg˘enog ˘ lu is right
that, in their attempts to gain equality, western feminists often attempt to
accede to a position of universalized subjectivity through the construction
of oriental women as non-sovereign objects of investigation. One must
indeed allow for feminized and feminist as well as masculinist modes of
imperialism, but this is where she and I agree to differ. If it is possible, as
Yeg˘enog˘lu contends, that oriental women can mimic Orientalist tropes in
a way that enacts a parodic rather than loyal repetition, why cannot western
women also find a way outside of the confines of such totalizing dynamics?
Whatever our differences, this book’s potential to keep sexuality at the forefront of postcolonial theory makes it unmissable.
As Yeg˘enog˘lu explains, studies concerned with gender and Orientalism
cannot avoid discussing the veil, whose ‘barbaric’ marking of the body
positions the unveiled western body as normative and unmarked. Models
for thinking through the importance of such dress acts within the performance of identity are provided by Dorrine Kondo’s examination, in About
Face, of Japanese haute couture and Asian-American theatre. Accounts of
gender performativity after Butler often leave race unproblematized, so
Kondo’s analysis of the always racialized nature of performative identifications is most welcome. Like Butler, Kondo emphasizes quaDerrida that
the citations of performance are not voluntary, but are ‘elicited under
duress’ (Kondo, 1997: 7). Demonstrating that the racializing force of Orientalism continues to have effects for Japanese and other Asians living in
America, she traces what is at stake in the category shift from an identification as ‘oriental’ to one of ‘Asian-American’. This is placed in the context
of a critique of how discourses of ‘race’ invoke a black/white binary that
‘erases the complexity of what is better figured as a changing matrix of
racialisation’ (Kondo, 1997: 6). Arguing against theories based on absolutes,
she demonstrates how ‘repeated iterations of identity can both consolidate
its force and provide the occasion for its subversion’ (Kondo, 1997: 7).
Elaborating how the mimetic nature of ‘counter-Orientalism’ may indeed
be uncomfortable for hegemonic power (the unsettling spectre of Bhabha’s
‘not quite, not white’), Kondo also reminds us that such opposition hovers
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on a knife edge of reinscribing hegemonic power once again; such challenges often being simultaneously a ‘contradictory contestation and reinscription of power’ (Kondo, 1997: 10). What I like about her account is the
way she historicizes each example in relation to global commodity capitalism, demonstrating how conditions of production and circulation must
be seen as key. This allows for an interpretive technique that attends to the
different readings made by different audiences. Her analysis of Japanese
haute couture reminds us that the ‘contestatory gestures’ of Comme des
Garçons’s radical rearticulation of gender and bodily norms are mitigated
by fashion’s existence as a capitalist enterprise. The compromised nature
of this unsettling of existing norms does not devalue it for Kondo, whose
model of resistance can accommodate partial and fleeting destabilizations
that reveal the hidden logic of gender and power systems.
Not to look for totalizing terms opens up for scrutiny subjects such as
fashion that are often disregarded as trivial. But, as Kondo points out to my
very great delight, the idea that fashion does not matter, that how individuals present themselves can be a matter of indifference, ‘is in itself a
form of preoccupation with appearance’ (Kondo, 1997: 15) since only the
dominant can afford not to think about how they appear and are read.
Kondo offers an introduction to contemporary philosophical writings on
fashion, integrating a discussion of the straightforwardly Orientalist
discrimination that greeted the advent of Japanese design (such as Comme
des Garçons) onto the international stage with an analysis of how transnational economics can in fact reproduce the national – now reinscribed
as a form of resistance. Thus, she points up the complicated self-exoticizing of the Japanese couture industry in which, for example, the 1980s
Comme des Garçons campaign for men’s suits offered Japanese businessmen a trendier image that challenged the Orientalist feminization they
faced in their dealings with the west. Simultaneously valorizing Japan as a
land of aesthetes who could show the West how to appreciate real beauty,
the reclamation of the Japanese businessman as beautiful and powerful
was, for Asian Americans, a liberating antidote to the prevalent stereotype
of the Japanese businessman as a ‘camera-carrying, buck-toothed, asexual,
emotionless automaton’ (Kondo, 1997: 173). The relational nature of
identity formation in the diasporic context of globalization is ably
discussed, including a productive analysis of how it can be empowering
for minority populations to produce their own forms of nostalgia instead
of endlessly being sold their past in the exoticized terms of western Orientalist nostalgia.
In all these books we see the range of material and social practices in
relation to which the racializing discourse of Orientalism is now being
discussed. Given that the majority of work in postcolonial theory has
tended to take literary sources as its subject, I am particularly delighted to
see the increase in studies of visual culture represented by this selection.
Despite obvious overlaps, the different theoretical approaches modelled by
these analyses point to the continued vibrancy of debate as new areas of
investigation are opened up in the attempt to create an historicized sense
of contemporary forms of gender and racialized subjectification. In the
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continued urgency to create forms of opposition to 21st-century imperialism – that can speak to subaltern women about their suffering without
speaking for them, while also resisting conscription in the West to a xenophobic patriarchal discourse of national unity – the need to study the
relationship of gender to racializing discourses of imperial power and the
place of women in the construction and contestation of imperial culture
has never been clearer.
References
Chow, Rey (1993) Writing Diaspora: Tactics of Intervention in Contemporary
Cultural Studies. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Lewis, Reina (1996) Gendering Orientalism: Race, Femininity and
Representation. London: Routledge.
Lewis, Reina (1999) ‘On Veiling, Vision and Voyage: Cross-cultural Dressing
and Narratives of Identity’, Interventions1(4): 500–20.
Lowe, Lisa (1991) Critical Terrains: French and British Orientalisms. Ithaca,
NY: Cornell University Press.
Melman, Billie (1992) Women’s Orients – English Women and the Middle
East, 1718–1918: Sexuality, Religion and Work. Basingstoke: Macmillan.
Mills, Sara (1991) Discourses of Difference: An Analysis of Women’s Travel
Writing and Colonialism. London: Routledge.
Said, Edward W. (1978) Orientalism. Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Said, Edward W. (1993) Culture and Imperialism. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Sharpe, Jenny (1993) Allegories of Empire: The Figure of Woman in the
Colonial Text. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty (1985) ‘Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of
Imperialism’, Critical Inquiry(Autumn)12: 243–61.
Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty (1998) In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural
Politics. London: Routledge.
Suleri, Sara (1992) The Rhetoric of English India. Chicago, IL: University of
Chicago Press.
Woodhull, Winifred (1991) ‘Unveiling Algeria’, Genders10: 112–31.
Zonana, Joyce (1993) ‘The Sultan and the Slave: Feminist Orientalism and the
Structure of Jane Eyre’, Signs18(3): 592–617.
Reina Lewisis author of Gendering Orientalism: Race, Feminity and
Representation(Routledge, 1996) and co-editor, with Peter Horne, of Outlooks:
Lesbian and Gay Sexualities and Visual Cultures (Routledge, 1996). She is
currently completing Feminisms in the Harem: Ottoman Women Writers(IB
Tauris, 2003) and Feminism and Postcolonial Theory: A Readerwith Sarah
Mills (Edinburgh University Press, 2002).
Address:Department of Cultural Studies, University of East London,
Docklands Campus, 4–6 University Way, London E16 2RD, UK.
Email: Reina@uel.ac.uk
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